


Candy Striped

by seizethelight



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Candy Canes, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, because it's christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethelight/pseuds/seizethelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he stashes the candy canes away for later, a flash of nostalgic nonsense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candy Striped

They don't celebrate anything anymore, not when the days and weeks and months blur together into a stream punctuated by alarm blasts and kill counts. When the end of humanity is actually visible on the horizon, holidays seem a little futile to Herc. There's not much to celebrate with anyways, rations are scarce and extras are just about non-existent. Herc's thankful he and his boy are PPDC, just because they get clothes and three squares, along with a roof over their heads (cramped and tiny as it may be). The dog takes up most of the rest of the extras, but Max is a necessity now, a vital part of the Hansen team, and neither Herc nor Chuck would give him up.

Days out, away from the dome, are few and far between, but Herc has to fly to Anchorage for a summit meaning with Stacker in early December. They tour the city with a committee, cataloging a rebuild area with the hope for future implementation when Herc sees a kid on the sidewalk. She's no more than ten, a little girl in raggedy clothes in the cold selling a fistful of candy canes for ration coupons. 

It's been years since he's seen the candy, not since Chuck was about the urchin's age, eyes alight over finding one in his stocking. Herc gives her a few dollars for them, three times the amount she was asking for in trade, figuring maybe it would help with her Christmas. It's not like Herc can spend the money, and it's not their goddamn war, kids should still be able to celebrate something.

Herc wraps the candy in his civvies on the way back to base, tucks them in his bag. He forgets about them until he's unpacking at home, and he stashes them away for later, a flash of nostalgic nonsense.

They've taken down bigger kaijuu, but this one is smart and fucking persistent. It won't let up on Chuck's flank, and it's touch and go until Sasha nails him at a weak point with a well-timed strike. 

Herc's worn down, he won't admit it to anyone (not that Chuck can't see it flash in his mind, which is why he's relentless with the old-man taunts) but he's ready to be done with the whole thing. He's done his time, paid his dues, and he wants out. It's never-ending, the exhausting cycle of prep, train, fight, pray that this isn't the last time you see the faces that lead your way out of the Dome. 

Chuck eats before him, finished his briefing before Herc was through, wants to hit the showers, walk Max, and rack early. 

Herc shovels his food in, too exhausted to chew properly, just nods blearily along to whatever Stacker is saying to him. He waves off finally, heads down to their quarters, and twists open the door. 

"Season's greetings." Chuck's lying on his stomach on Herc's bed, naked save for dog tags around his neck and the candy cane hanging from his lips. He smirks a little, sucks the candy in and slides it out, tongue swirling around the shaft of it, lips pulling tight around the hook. Herc's groin tightens, watching the way Chuck works the red and white striped cane, a steady, pulsing ache throbbing between his thighs. Chuck's eyes glitter, knowing exactly what he's doing to Herc, the little shit. 

"Merry Christmas," Herc mutters, walking over and swiping the stick of peppermint from Chuck's mouth. "This was supposed to be a surprise." 

"Should have buried it deeper, old man." He leans in, snaps the candy cane from Herc's fingers with his teeth. It crunches loudly in the small space, Chuck's lips are red and sticky, and Herc can smell the mint on his breath. A wave of post-kill adrenaline floods through Herc, a second wind of energy that Chuck notices immediately, the stubborn, arrogant set in his jaw shifting slightly to something more pliant, more wanting. 

"I can do that." His hand darts out, hauls Chuck against him, fingers scraping through the damp strands of Chuck's hair. Chuck's lips are lined up with Herc's dick now, the line of it hard through his fatigues. Chuck is close enough that Herc can feel the heat from his quickened breath on it, and he twitches, cock jumping at the promise of getting sucked.

His other hand works his belt open, drags the zipper down and jerks himself free. Chuck's mouth drops open a little, a pavlovian response, licking his lips and moving closer.

He looks up at Herc, gray stare so achingly familiar, and Chuck makes a keening noise in the back of his throat.

"You gonna say sorry for going through my shit, ruining my surprise?"

Chuck nods, starts what will probably be a stream of useless babble, he gets mouthy when he's getting fucked, cock down his throat or not, and Herc shakes his head, grunts.

"I don't want your words, boy. Show me."

It's all the permission Chuck needs, and he almost leaps forward, wrapping his lips around Herc's dick. His mouth is sticky, Herc can feel the drag when Chuck pulls back, the cool trace of Chuck's tongue on his shaft, the smell of peppermint and sweat in the air. Herc's hands hold him close, thumb rubbing behind Chuck's ear, teeth gritting when Chuck swallows him down damn near whole. His talented mouth works Herc's cock like the peppermint stick, sucking and licking it like a kid on Christmas morning, and Herc's pulled right to the edge, far too soon. He sees Chuck's hand snake down to palm himself, jerk in time to his head bobbing on Herc's cock. Herc's breath stutters, quick and rough, and he starts to talk, too, and he knows where his boy gets it.

Chuck's mouth tightens up, sucks hard when he comes, and Herc's done, seized up in his belly, shooting into Chuck's throat. The noises the kid makes, appreciative and filthy, like he wants the stream of cum in his mouth, it's twisted and fucking amazing, and it makes Herc pulse again, another shot on Chuck's tongue.

He slumps a little, knees on the mattress alongside Chuck, exhaustion suddenly catching up to him, the wave of energy drained like his balls. Chuck rolls on the mattress, rubbing his hand on a rag by the bed as he pulls Herc in next to him, stripping Herc out of his clothes, arranging him easily. Chuck loops a arm over Herc's chest, presses a kiss that still tastes faintly of peppermint against Herc's lips.

"Better than Christmas morning," he murmurs and Herc rolls with a grunt to his side, a reluctant smile on his mouth.

"Fucking impatient, at least pretend to be surprised next time."

Chuck smells like mint and Herc when he nods, and Herc pulls him in tight, dreams of something sweet for the first time in a long time.


End file.
